


Fire Bringer

by wewhofightmonsters



Series: Your Life in Reverse [3]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Happy Ending, Requited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-12 03:34:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7918909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wewhofightmonsters/pseuds/wewhofightmonsters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prometheus has been chained to this cliff at the end of the world for many thousands of years, and in all this time he has never met a human quite like little Nico di Angelo.</p>
<p>(Percy and Nico's beginnings, through a Titan's eyes)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire Bringer

**Author's Note:**

> I was looking through my old notes the other day, and came across the third and (potentially) final piece to this little story I began several years ago. I don't know why I never published it, but here it is now for those of you who still haven't forgotten.

i.

 

“Sorry,” Nico mutters, wiping his sword on the ground to clean it.

“For what?” Prometheus slurs, his mouth bloody.

“You shouldn’t have to go through this.”

Prometheus smiles with no real happiness. He shifts against the rock, the open flaps of skin hanging ragged from his wound sending a shock of pain down his spine.

“This has been a long time coming, little demigod. I am the titan of Foresight, after all.” he chuckles, a dry, bitter sound, “You aren’t responsible for the actions of your uncle.”

“I’ll find a way to break the chains,” Nico promises, sliding his sword back into its sheath, “and until I do I’ll come back and chase the eagle away. As often as I can.”

Prometheus tilts his head to the side, reaching out as far as the chains will allow and cupping Nico’s cheek with one large hand.

“And what will you ask of me in return, little demigod? Will you have me look into your future?”

Nico’s olive complexion turns outright sickly, and he takes a small, shuddering breath.

“No. No, thank you, Lord. I would prefer not to know my future.”

Prometheus blinks strange silver eyes.

“Very well, Nico di Angelo. I shall await your return.”

 

ii.

 

“Why did you support Kronos?”

Prometheus lifts his head sluggishly at the sound of a voice, and blinks at the slender boy in front of him. He is so old today, so sick and weary of living. Immortality is not so much a blessing as it is a punishment, a crawling passage of time in which every mistake you’ve made, every wrong deed, sets another stone down on your shoulder. Some days it’s all Prometheus can do to lift his head. A conscience is, after all, a heavy burden to bear.

“Sit here by me, little demi-god.” he rumbles, with a deep sigh. “I find I am starved for company as of late.”

Nico approaches cautiously, slinging his backpack off his shoulder and unzipping it.

“I brought you some nectar,” he says, hesitantly, “I don’t know if it will help with the pain, and I wasn’t sure if titans ate the same things as gods-”

“That should do nicely, Nico di Angelo,” Prometheus cuts him off gently, “come and feed it to me.”

The luminescent blush that appears on the boy’s cheeks makes him laugh, something that he has not done in a long time. The boy perches on a rock next to Prometheus, and feeds him chunks of nectar with quick, birdlike hands.

“You never answered my question,” Nico murmurs, absently, tracing his little fingers over the ugly scar on his torso where the skin has never fully been allowed to heal over his new-grown liver.

“I don’t know why I followed Kronos, child.” Prometheus says, his voice a soft cry on the wind, “Perhaps because the last time I helped the gods, I wound up chained to this cliff for my troubles.”

Nico frowns. “I thought they chained you up because you gave humanity fire?”

Prometheus smiles, an angry gash across his face.

“I did more than that little demi-god,” he replies harshly, “I gave humanity the better part of the sacrifice, tricking Zeus into accepting fat and bones. I taught your ancestors the crafting of machines, and clever ways to keep alive and warm in winter. And most of all, Nico di Angelo,”

Prometheus sets a hand on Nico’s head and allows himself to stroke the silky hair of this boy that he had helped create, “I gave them blind hope.”

“What does that mean, blind hope?” Nico asks, blinking large, dark eyes up at Prometheus.

“When humanity was first created, little one,” Prometheus answers, “they were born knowing the exact day and moment they were going to die. I gave them ignorance. I took away their knowledge, so that they could fight the gods, and their own fate. And I was punished for it. I suppose I thought if I sided with Kronos I’d get away from this rock. Yet here I am. Nothing changes.” he finishes, resigned.

“Nothing changes...” Nico repeats, softly, biting down hard on his lip.

They sit together, titan and boy, sharing a brief moment of solidarity in the wake of an inescapable fate.

 

 iii.

 

“Have you ever been in love, Lord?”

Prometheus turns his head down to the boy, perched on a rock by his side, nimble fingers plucking at the sparse flowers that cling to life in this barren, rocky place beyond the world’s end.

“I have.”

The little demigod hesitates, his hands still twisting the flowers together almost frantically in his lap, “What was it like?”

Prometheus is silent for a moment, gazing thoughtfully into the cloudless gray sky.

“It was painful, Nico di Angelo. It is painful still. Beautiful, beautiful and terrible beyond all reckoning, and all the more painful for it.”

He stretches out a hand as far as the chains will allow, curling his fingers around the boy as though to shelter him.

“This is not what you wanted to hear,” he muses, with a half smile.

“Not what I wanted, no…” Nico says slowly, his voice thick with a vast and untamable ocean of sorrow, “but I expected it, all the same. When you described it like that, pain and beauty all at once, that’s when-“

He breaks off, pressing himself back into the Titan’s palm, searching blindly for comfort.

“I’ve felt like that.” He whispers, “ I feel- “

“And there is no shame in that,” Prometheus interrupts fiercely, “there is no shame in feeling. There never should be.”

He can feel Nico’s heartbeat beneath his fingertips, fluttering like the wings of a dying bird. _Mortals are so fragile_ , he thinks, not for the first time, _as fleeting and quick to vanish as a candle flame, and all the more lovely for it_.

“My love is different from yours, dear heart,” he says quietly, lifting the boy up to his shoulder, where he perches and blinks up at Prometheus, fighting back the tears that are building in his eyes like storm clouds on the horizon.

“You see, many thousands of years ago, when human-kind was first created, stumbling and naked and new in the early dawning of the world, I fell in love with you, each and every one. The gods did not love you, how could they? In time, they came to accept their due sacrifice, to admire your art and your poems and your great temples and tombs, but always they knew they were above you. Your mortality made you ugly, and small.”

“Then why did you love us?” Nico asks, in wonder.

“Because I saw what the gods could not. I saw that humans _were_ beautiful, more beautiful than the gods, and it was their mortality that made them so.”

Nico di Angelo is quiet for a long moment, the dying light of the sunset splashing across his cheekbones and turning him, for a moment, into something that is no more a part of this world then Prometheus himself.

“I’m in love.” He says, very carefully, “Not with all humans, but with one.”

He stops, and opens and shuts his mouth a few times, unable to force out the words lingering at the back of his small mouth.

“You can say his name to me, son of Hades. There is no secret you could keep that I do not know.”

Nico looks up, oil slick eyes boring into mercury.

“Percy.” he chokes. “Percy Jackson. Stupid, egotistical, brave, wonderful Percy Jackson…” his voice trails off as he speaks, sighs and floats and becomes a gentle caress.

“Such a terrible thing, love.” says Prometheus, and he brushes the tip of his finger across Nico’s cheek, collecting the tears. “And yet, how blessed we are, to have it.”

Nico sighs, a small, shaking sound, but the storm clouds have cleared from his eyes, and he leans his little body against Prometheus, exhausted by the force of the grief that has come and gone.

“I don’t feel very blessed, Lord.” He mumbles, and Prometheus laughs, a thing he has almost forgotten he could do.

“You will, little one. You will.”

 

 iv.

 

That night, Prometheus dreams of little Nico di Angelo, stretched broken across the ground where he had fallen, covered in blood; wide, unseeing eyes clouded with death. He wakes, and the sadness inside him is so vast for a moment it threatens to swallow him up. Gods and titans do not grieve as mortals do, but Nico, child of death, was kind to him. The first person to be kind to him in a very long time. Prometheus will be sad to see him gone.

 

Nico di Angelo does not come, and does not come, and does not come, and as the days stretch on and out around him, the fates whisper on the wind that his dream has come to pass (his dreams always come to pass, but he _hopes_ ). What a sad thing, that such a very little boy should die so alone, with no one to mourn him. No one but a lonely, bitter titan, chained to a rock at the ends of the earth.

 

 v.

 

“Where is he?”

Prometheus opens his eyes very slowly and blinks down at a fiercely determined  son of Poseidon.

“Hello, Percy Jackson,” he says, vaguely surprised, “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Yes, you were,” Percy replies darkly.

Prometheus narrows his eyes in amusement.

“Well, not yet at least.” he concedes. “And what, if I may ask, beings you here to my humble rock? The last time we met you did not seem eager to be friends.”

Percy shrugs, avoiding the Titan’s silver eyes, a fade shade of guilt coloring his ears.

“Yeah, well, look. I’m sorry about that, okay? We were on opposite sides, how was I supposed to know you were technically one of the good guys?”

Prometheus smiles, and sighs, and thinks for a moment of little Nico di Angelo, shattered and strong, wiping the crusting blood away from his wound with thin hands and clear, unwavering eyes.

“I am not one of the _good guys_ , Percy Jackson,” he says gently, “there is no such thing, in the immortal world. But I care about humanity and its fate more than the gods ever will, and there is something to be said for that.”

Percy is quiet for a moment, his green eyes searchlights.

“Annabeth told me you were the titan of foresight,” he says, suddenly.

“Annabeth is correct, as I suspect she usually is.” Prometheus answers with a secret little smile.

“Do you know why I’m here, then?”

Prometheus shifts his arms, the chains tugging painfully at his shoulders, and says with a grunt of pain-

“I would assume you’re here regarding little Nico di Angelo.”

Percy narrows his eyes at Prometheus, a spark of realization hitting him almost visibly.

“You knew him,” he says slowly, in wonder. Prometheus nods.

“He came to me after the war. Every week, without fail, he chased the eagle away and fed me nectar to dull the pain of my wound-” Prometheus stops, and meets Percy’s eyes.

“He was kind to me, where others had forgotten I existed.”

Percy Jackson swallows, his jaw working, and looks away from the titans searchlight silver eyes.

“Yeah,” he mutters, “yeah, Nico was… he was good at that. Being kind to forgotten people.”

There is a pause, as Percy Jackson, remarkably, seems to be searching for something to say. Prometheus feels older and more remote than ever.

“How did he die?”

“Shouldn’t you have seen that already?” Percy says, eyes narrowed.

“Even I am not all knowing, little demigod,” Prometheus replies, simply.

Percy goes quiet again, and his face twists up in pain.

“For me.” He says in a whisper, like he’s voicing a secret that will rip him apart, “He died for me. I don’t know how, and I don’t know why, but he died for me.”

Prometheus laughs then, not the genuine laughter he and Nico had often shared, but a dark, bloody thing, tinged with mocking.

“You don’t know why,” he croons, “You humans. You never do know a good thing when you have it.”

“Look, just- just tell me where he is already!” Percy barks, posture stiff and defensive, “I know you know.”

“What will you do if I tell you, Percy Jackson?” Prometheus is suddenly furious, furious at this boy who so carelessly owned Nico’s love, who had such a precious thing and didn’t care, didn’t care until Nico was dead and gone.

“What will you do if you find him, little half-blood?” he booms, and Percy shrinks under the weight of his rage, “What does he matter to you? I know all of his secret thoughts and fears, all of his pain and his joy, and I am not half so important to him as you! What do you know about Nico di Angelo, Percy Jackson? What did you ever care to learn about him?”

Percy shudders, once, bone deep guilt coursing through his body, and then he turns a set face and cold, steely green eyes towards Prometheus.

“Nothing.” He hisses, “Nothing! I didn’t care to learn anything, and I was WRONG! I was wrong! I know that, I know that now, just tell me how to get him back and I’ll fix it! I’ll never ignore him again, I’ll never treat him like he doesn’t matter, I just need a second chance. Please!”

The Titan studied the boy below him, and sees for the first time the dark bruises under his eyes, the weary slope to the proud shoulders, the grief hiding in the hollows of his cheeks. His rage fades away as quickly as it had come. Perhaps there was hope for Nico yet.

“You don’t know a good thing when you have it, Percy Jackson,” he sighs, making up his mind, “but I will tell you how to save Nico, if you swear on the River Styx to cherish him in the future.”

Prometheus had assumed Percy would hesitate, would stop to evaluate the ramifications of such a promise, but no sooner have the words left his mouth than Percy is dropping to his knees.

“I swear.” He says, a look of such ancient solemnity on his young face that Prometheus believes him. “I swear on the River Styx that I will cherish Nico di Angelo. For all the days of my life, I swear it.”

Prometheus closes his eyes for a moment. His beautiful humans. How he loves them.

“I am content.” He says, and beckons to the demigod.

“Come here, son of Poseidon, and I will tell you how to find what you seek.”

 

 vi.

 

 In the breath between one day and another, Prometheus opens his eyes in a haze of pain to find Nico di Angelo standing before him, hand in hand with one Percy Jackson. He smiles brilliantly; filled with a happiness he hasn’t experienced since the last time Nico visited him in this forsaken place.

“I knew you’d be along sooner or later,” he says with a gentle smile, reaching a hand down to stroke the boys silky hair, “I’d glad you’ve come.”

"I always planned to,” Nico says, sounding warm and at peace for the first time since Prometheus has known him, “I would never just abandon you here.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” Prometheus says, and Percy lets go of Nico’s hand and steps forward.

“Prometheus, er, Sir,” He begins respectfully, and the Titan nobly resists the urge to laugh, “I wanted to thank you. If it hadn’t been for you, we- well, I-“ he takes a deep breath and starts again.

“I just wanted to say that I know what I have now.” He looks down at Nico, and the light shining out of him can’t be anything but love. Nico flushes, unable to meet Percy’s eyes, but Prometheus can see by the curve of his mouth that the boy is barely able to control his joy. _Good,_ he thinks, fiercely, _no one deserves it more_.

“We didn’t just come here to thank you,” Nico says, nodding to Percy, who pulls his sword out of its sheathe, “We came to set you free.”

The sword flashes, once, twice, four times, and the chains fall away from him like chaff in the wind.

Prometheus stands, stretching out his legs and rubbing his wrists, gazing at the boys beneath him in amazement.

“I’ve been locked up here so long, I’m not sure I know what to do now that I’m free,” he says wistfully. Nico smiles.

“I know the feeling,” he replies, and Percy speaks up, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“You know,” he says slowly, “Ever since Mr. D was called back to Olympus, we’ve been without a director at merry old Camp Half-Blood. You’d certainly be better than he ever was.”

Prometheus frowns, “I don’t know if the Gods will allow-“

Percy grins, a dark, certain thing.

“Sure they will!” he says, “After all, they sort of owe me a favor. Or ten.”

“It would be nice to see you more often,” Nico adds, shy and sweet.

Prometheus looks down at the two of them, standing hand in hand, small and broken many times over, but strong. Stronger than any God could imagine.

“Very well,” he says simply, and he turns his eyes towards the horizon, and the bright future.


End file.
